RAINING IN JUNE / joining

[MOURKA]

Rain beats down on the sidewalk. It's a wonder he hasn't slipped and fallen yet, though it's more of a drizzle, really—no match for the thunderous sounds of footsteps pounding down the narrow alleyway, nor the monstrous barking reverberating across the walls. An otherwise pleasant shower compared to the high-speed race for his life going on.

"Shit!" Mourka shouts, borderline hysterical. The panic's really starting to set in. He's not been down to this part of the twoleg place very often, obvious reasons notwithstanding, so he's relying on the dredges of his memory to lead him someplace safe and it's not exactly working out. He's all turned around. Scratch that. The world's a blur at this point, just misty grays smearing across his periphery as he leaps over some nondescript obstacle, stumbling for a heart-wrenching moment. He swears that he can feel one of the two neighborhood dogs snap at the end of his tail and a humiliating sound of fear weasels from his throat. It's a good thing no one else is around. Or, well, maybe it isn't.

Stupid dogs. All he wanted was a snack!

Mourka keeps running, every second closer to being just shy of too-slow and getting his whole head ripped off by someone's burly mutt, when the shiny glint of something just happens to break through the cloudy overlay of everything else and he thinks, hey, maybe I'm not as lost as I thought.

It's a gamble, but when the spindly tomcat launches himself into the air, his claws manage to find purchase on the chainlink fence with a loud metallic twang. He wastes no time in scrambling up and over the fence. He does so with such haste that he ends up toppling onto the grass on the other side, but. Freedom.

Time takes a moment to freeze. Mourka, a shaggy blond tomcat with too much mischievousness for his own good, lays in a jumbled heap on the grass right alongside SkyClan's territory border. The pair of dogs chasing him throw themselves against the chainlink, yapping and howling, stuck behind the barrier. Then, all at once, Mourka throws himself to his feet with a mighty whoop.

"HAH!" he yells breathlessly, chest heaving and lungs burning. His head's spinning and he grins like an idiot, stumbling a little. "You stupid, idiot dogs! Better luck next time, huh? Hah..." He's plopped back on his haunches without really realizing, suddenly exhausted. But no less alive.

[ hi, this takes place before the current shelter plot if that's alright! :3c ]​

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[Orangestar]

This isn't the first time she's seen those two dogs chase something over the twolegplace fence, nor the first time they've scared off half the prey between here and camp, but the deputy doesn't often see a cat on the escaping end of the pair of stupid mutts. Annoyed that the barking has startled the sparrow she'd been stalking, Orangeblossom snaps down at the blond tomcat from her place amidst the branches:

"Oi!" With ears pinned against her skull in an effort to keep the insistent yapping out of her mind as best as possible, she continues: "Get up a tree before they get out! Have you got feathers for brains or something?"

— info

• // for sure!! welcome in :]
• 
  orangeblossom. tags.
  — she/her, skyclan deputy.
  — mentor to eveningpaw.
  — attack in #e08550. uses trees as an integral part of her fighting style.
  — mean enough to note that her thoughts don't reflect my opinions as a writer haha.
  — penned by mercibun; @ me in any official tabbytales discord for plots. :]
  — art by merc!<3
  

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[Johnnyflame]

LIVE AS IF YOU WERE TO DIE TOMORROW​

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The border between Skyclan and Twolegplace was arguably the one that Johnny was most familiar with. He lived in one of those houses, after all, close enough to the clans border that he'd been able to watch them hunting among the pines from where he'd been stationed on the fence. Like Orangeblossom, the bobtail was pretty familiar with the dogs and the reputation.

"Aye, they're dumb but they've certainly got the physical capability to jump that fence and get ya. Just takes them a minute to realize it." the patchwork tabby added.

He, too, was in the trees, having climbed up the second he heard the frantic barking of a stray dog- not to flee, but to get a better view of what was happening. His mind had flashed back to the day Thistleback and Deer had been cornered by the fox, and the tomcat was fully prepared to launch himself down from the trees a second time if some poor cat needed a distraction.

Luckily it hadn't come to that- yet- so he hoped the blond was smart enough to take his Deputys word for it.

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[BLAZESTAR]

It's a rare sight for the SkyClan leader to be in the branches, but Blazestar is perched on the lowest and sturdiest of them, below both Johnny and Orangeblossom. The shrill barking of the dogs had sent him shimmying for the trunk -- he has no inclination to fight a hound, and he's thankful his Clanmates are swift and adept climbers. The hounds rail against the barrier that holds them, their teeth flashing and drooling in the sunlight.

The cat who'd outrun them looks to have barely done that. Young, with long pale golden fur and fiery eyes, his voice smug despite his near-death experience. Blazestar fights the urge to be amused. "What were you doing in the dogs' garden?" His voice holds curiosity as the blue-eyed Ragdoll peers down from his secure branch. "You don't look like a kittypet."

// by 'garden' he means 'yard' lol <3 welcome!​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[Fireflyglow]

// eee i get to play firefly with his sight one last time--

"Planning to meet his maker.~" Sings the apprentice as he lowers his head from a branch not too far from Orangeblossom, a soft cackle leaves the tom's lips as he peers downwards at the taunting loner- dogs barking, vicious and hungry. "They're gonna come for yooou.~" He cannot imagine the agony, the pain one would feel to be shredded apart by dogs. Part of him wants to believe that it's possible that they'd leave something behind, perhaps a paw or two- something to bury. But, would this loner even like that?

"Spunky! We need some spunkiness. How 'bout we recruit 'em, dad?" Fireflypaw suggests as his branch sways beneath his weight, chunky stomach hanging slightly over the sides. It kept him stable, in a way- he wouldn't go tumbling sideways anytime soon! Leaning his head down more, he makes a point to grin towards the blonde. "Hi! I'm Fireflypaw!"​

 

[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — The rabid snarls and incessant barking echoed throughout the pines, sending Slate into a near-frenzied panic. While some members of the patrol had shimmied up the trees as a precaution, Slate still wasn't comfortable with doing so. Instead, the Maine Coon had ducked low to the ground and folded his ears flat against his skull, terror paling his dark features.

It wasn't until the others had addressed the stranger that Slate decided to break from his cover in the undergrowth and peer forth at— what the hell?! What was he doing here? "You," The Maine Coon grunted, not necessarily in a hostile manner, but more genuinely surprised than anything. It wasn't every day that a familiar face stumbled upon the borders, especially not any cat he's had a decent amount of history with. Not that the two had been friends or anything; anything but, as a matter of fact. At one point they had bickered as rivals, scrapping in the alleys over pointless arguments, the blonde-colored bastard seeming to poke his head in every once in a while to serve Slate smartass remarks and get under his skin. They had left off on somewhat neutral terms, this being the first time they had seen each other in moons.

Slate couldn't admit that he was pleased to see Mourka again, but part of him is impressed that the blind male had managed to keep on his toes for this long. He was like a cockroach, someone who just kept getting up no matter how many times he was squished under someone's weight. "You have a real knack for runnin' into me, y'know that?" His past always had a way of catching up to him — Orangeblossom, Silversmoke, Moon, and now Mourka.

Another series of yelps from the fence-bound mutts makes him flinch, a deeper frown tugging upon his lips. "Can we make this quick before those things actually do break loose and rip us apart?" Slate pressed, shooting quick glances toward the group while his amber gaze struggled to tear away from the dogs.​

 

[MOURKA]

A voice almost immediately cuts through the sounds of furious blood-thirsty beasts, though it's no less sharp than the yapping dogs, to be honest. Caught off guard, Mourka's head swivels around to face Orangeblossom's direction. She sounds tough. And mean. And unfamiliar—where'd he end up, exactly?

Though the smell of rain tends to smother everything else, the scent of the forest is sharp and easy to distinguish when he starts to pay attention. More voices seep in from all sides. Clan cats, Mourka realizes.

He's done his best to avoid the forest through his life. Clan cats have a reputation of either being strict authoritarians or delusional fools—things to be avoided, either way. He tenses unwittingly at the intrusion, though his body has started to subtly shake from the exhaustion of sprinting across town. But none of the surrounding tree-dwellers seem to throw any accusations his way, they just perch in the air and call suggestions down at him; seemingly friendly. For the most part.

He's shaken his owlish reaction by the time Johnny climbs over to elaborate. Mourka cringes visibly at the tom's words, ears flicking back to the fence, no longer quite as triumphant. "Uh, right..." Mourka ekes out. "The trees."

He's not a climber. Most rogues aren't, but certainly not Mourka, who usually does his best to slowly map out his pathways unless extenuating circumstances call for hastiness. He hauls himself up from the ground and hesitantly steps toward the nearest tree. Sets his forepaws against the trunk, digs his claws into its rain-logged exterior. It can't be that different from climbing boxes or scaling fire escapes, right?

Blazestar calls down to him as he's still trying to psych himself up enough to shimmy up the tree. ""Oh, y'know," Mourka says. A bit of tree bark curls under his claw. "They just seemed real friendly. Invited me to a party 'n everything. I thought it'd be rude to say no." Without knowing Blazestar, he is blissfully unaware of the social faux-pas of snarking to the leader, but he doesn't really mean it maliciously anyway.

There's no way that this tree's gonna hold his weight. How did they all get up there?

The last voice is particularly young sounding. The kid doesn't seem all too fussed about being so near to the dogs, though. Was everyone else lying about the fence, or are the trees really that safe?

Mourka grits his teeth and tries to pull himself up a ways, but it's clunky and difficult and he is severely lacking in momentum. He doesn't make it that far.

"Hi," he wheezes out to Fireflypaw. His nerves are really starting to get shot again. "I'm not a, uh, house cat or anything, alright? I'm—"

Before he can finish, an astounded voice comes flying from ground level, and Mourka's head whips to face it. "Slate!" he exclaims unthinkingly.

Several expressions flash over Mourka's face. Surprise, then confusion, then a bit of repulsion, before settling on the same barely-repressed nervousness as before. No way Slate's gone and teamed up with the Clan cats. He's gotta be hallucinating now, right? Then again, there's not much of a chance to question it. The chainlink continues to rattle as the dogs bark against it and he's running out of time, certainly.

"Hey," he calls, face tilting up to the trees. "You've all got a camp or something, right? Someplace safe?" It's hard to hide the lilt of pleading from his voice. "If you let me come with you to get outta here, I'll pay you back. Hunting, er...uh, patrolling? Or whatever. I'm good for it! Slate here can attest." It's an attestation of its own that despite all their squabbling and occasional fighting, Slate and Mourka haven't ever tried to actually kill each other. In fact, they've both done each other the favor of saving the other guy's life, so. A rarity among rogues. If not friendship, then neutrality. Partnership. He turns back toward Slate, teeth gritting, and says lowly: "I'll owe you one, okay? Just get me out of here."​

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